


Emotional blackmail is a fine thing to pull out of your arsenal.

by Proxy_17



Series: Cosa Nostra Rats [2]
Category: Deadly Class (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 10:23:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20946788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proxy_17/pseuds/Proxy_17
Summary: Marcus gets roped into going with the twins and guns, boners and ice cream ensues.





	Emotional blackmail is a fine thing to pull out of your arsenal.

LOCATION:

Eden

In the 60s', Haight Ashbury, San Francisco was a district known for its Hippies and psychedelic drug use. Cause the government was already fucking us up at lest this time it would be by our own hands. 

We were stupid to think that this gave us a control over our lives when all it did was in debt us to a dealer. 

But at least the high was fucking great. 

And that's when it hit the streets: 

Now the abbreviated term 'PCP' originates from the chemical name—phencyclidine or, more specifically Phenylcylohexyl piperidine.

It’s been claimed that the drug’s street name “the peace pill” also contributed to the abbreviation PCP.

It was outlawed in 78'.

But this wasn't 78' and no one gave a shit what was illegal anyways.

To the gyrating bodies, so close they could practically fuse in the underground club, it wasn't a failed surgical anesthetic. 

It was Rocket Fuel.

And it sent them to the beyond and past that, their eyes seeing colors in the air like they'd melted off of their hippie shirts and vans. 

Their breath coming out like fog to them, despite the fact that the air conditioning had long ago broke and was being used by some third rate punk rocker as a seat while he snorted something scarily close to cocaine off of a book. 

To others it was Angel Dust. 

The only thing that would let them see God's face without being dead...or make them a God. 

Fitting that they would feel like that in the underground club known as Eden, which was little more than a series of rooms with various drugs and pumping music that vibrated through the sweating bodies whose clothes stuck to them as if painted there. 

This was as close as any of us would get to heaven and everyone here knew that. 

But this wasn't my scene. 

Not my kind of poison. 

So why was I here? Pressed between two moving bodies like they shared one soul? 

Billy Bennett, that's why. 

He was kinder than most, something that got him eaten alive in King's Dominion, with the shittiest of luck at finding the best of people. 

So, thankfully, we found him. 

And maybe his sky blues were enough to make me forget about the way my hand shook every time I lit a joint. 

Maybe the way the sunlight hits them just right, and maybe they look like some windswept painting, and maybe I can forget that I like him better than weed. 

But I can't.

Couldn't.

Maybe I didn't want to, who honestly knows? Who honestly cared? 

All that mattered was when your best friend knocks on your door at 9 pm, disheveled and eyes blown wide, you put on your pants and help. 

Literally. 

I probably should've asked what exactly I was helping with, but being dragged to a club certainly wasn't what I had in mind.

"Do you always think this much?" A smooth accented voice whispered into my ear, the hot and heavy weight that was Vittorio against my back making my shiver.

"Only when there's stuff to think about."

And I can barely hear myself over the music and mania but I could feel him snort; he's that close. 

"Well, don't." Vittoria grinds back against me, sweat making her look like a fucking provocation. 

She's swaying her hips, the sides of her skirt bunched in her hands to better lower herself to the ground, her dark tresses falling over her shoulders as she rolls and bites her bottom lip. 

She's hot. 

She's ethereal and she knows that every grinding movement, every unholy position she maneuvers into is making the mouths around us go dry as they hang open with ogling eyes. 

And to say her brother was a mirror image wouldn't be doing him justice, at all. 

He moved his hips like they belonged to some grand salsa dancer, their individual pops as mesmerizing as his trailing hands over a lean frame of bronze. 

Mapping out every area his onlookers envisioned dragging their tongues down and over like a smuty topographic landscape.

And with me in the middle doing my best to keep my wits about me with the smell of vanilla wafting through the air every time Vitti shook her head.

And the cologne musk that was imprinting into my back as Vitt gripped my hips and moved them along with his, I finally understood that age old assassin's saying:

True evil, above all else, is seductive.

"Let's have some real fun." Vitt winks and my pace quickened before suddenly I'm being pulled by both hands, led by both twins. 

I expect to be pushed against a dark wall, tongues delving into my mouth with equal ferocity, hands gripping and pulling between broken moans and knuckles damn near splitting apart from gripping leather seats too hard. 

Not, what happened when we got outside of the shotgun shack, our bodies being peppered with lightly falling rain. 

"Say ah~" I'm caught completely off guard as Vitt whispers into my ear, my mouth opening to question though it never got to; a pill shoved into my mouth along with Vitti's tongue stopped me in my tracks. 

I swallowed, fuzzy from the alcohol, tipsy on the dynamic of the twins, and now growing hard despite myself with burning cheeks. 

"What'd you give me?" I blink trying to focus, high as a kite, but Vitt only chuckled, the sound almost as formless as Billy's, though it's far deeper. 

"Wait, wait, wait," I burp and shake my already swimming head. "What'd you give me?" 

"Something to ease the process," Vitti smiles and I'm at a lost till she pushes me into the passenger seat of their black 67' GTO. "We'll be right back."

And it wasn't till Vitt clapped my on the shoulder seconds later that I realized that he'd been gone to the trunk of the car; the hood still up. 

"Relax, Marcus," he cooed from under his all white mask -- save for the black club over his eyes; like a skeleton. "We're just making a courtesy call." And I could practically hear the smile in his voice as he handed his sister a cpw firearm that looked modified.

I look back at the girl who's positioning her own signature look: a veil and coif fitted to her head and some part of me doubted that the PVC mask that went over her nose was standard Catholic issue. 

"To who?" I croaked and fuck if I hadn't wanted to back up, but when you're already pressed against a leather seat hard enough to tell the date the cow was killed to make it, you're stuck and it was more than a little unnerving.

"Just an empty suit." Vitti adjusted the strap of the gun. "He's been a gonah' for a day too long, in my opinion; messy work ain't how we work."

"It ain't how Gianni works e'tha," Vitt seemed to remind his sister, loading his .22 calibers with their silencers. "But wasn't much he could do with all the heat on his neck when the fucking mook broke the omertà."

"Omertà?" 

"Our vow of silence that forbids members from betraying their ‘brothers’ to authorities or rival gangs, fuck, even outsiders ain't supposed to know."

I paled. 

"But you're a friend of our Billy," Vitti nudged me with a smile -- earnest, that was good -- before adding, voice low, "And you got an exoneration from the Queen Bitch herself." 

"Okay, stay here." 

And with that, they closed the car door and effectively ended our conversation; sneaking around the corner out of sight. 

Though the sound of a door being kicked open was loud.

The sound of gunshots was louder. 

I ducked and covered my ears as shouting, bullets ripping through people, screaming in different languages, and the crashing of glass -- probably someone being thrown from a window -- hit the ground behind me.

Suddenly I hear running and yelling like a stampede before Vitt throws open the car door and shoves the entirety of a blubbering man -- duct taped and crying -- into the back seat before hastily rushing in and starting the car. 

He ripped off the mask and gave me the biggest shit eating grin before starting the car and speeding off. 

Without Vitti.

And with several speeding cars behind us. 

"VITTORIO, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?" I screamed as the Italian whipped the car in-between warehouses and over potholes that caused the car to take air several times much to his excitement but my -- and the guy in the backseats, tied up -- horror. "WHERE'S YOUR SISTER!?" 

But he doesn't answer me, instead I'm ducking bullets that are being exchanged between him and the car next to us; they’re the only car that managed not to get rammed into the parallel buildings or into the port’s murky darkness.

The guy behind me is all but shitting himself and all I can think about is the fact that I'm totally going to get expelled because of these nut jobs!

“So, that club was live as hell yeah?” He looks at me with this beam like we’re not getting chased down, like he didn’t just head shot a man in a speeding car while we’re also in a speeding car, like there’s not a man screaming in the backseat. 

“They could’ve used more weed, don’t you think-- hold on,” he reaches back and slams the man in the face with the gun before looking back at me, blood splashed over his own.

"MOTHER OF FUCK!" I screamed as the car slid into the wall, sending sparks up the side and splashing inside as we swerved around the corner. "VITTORIO WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"Calm down, calm down, mi amico," he laughed, actually laughed. "We're just making a pick up, we'll have you home to Benny-boo before sunrise."

And if someone had asked me if I blushed I would've denied it wholeheartedly but still, I looked away with red ears and a burning, twisting in my gut. 

I'm snapped out of my embarrassment by the sudden sound of something crashing onto the hood, I jumped and blinked in shock because Vitti is hanging on covered in blood with the biggest shit eating grin I've ever seen second only to her brother's.

"HEY MARCUS!" she greets me like she's not dangling from death and I'm quick to pull her in through the car window, her boots just barely missing my junk as she climbed into the back before leaning up with a grin. 

"So the club, too much weed or not enough?" 

"That's what I was saying!" And between they're mutual talking, the man's whimpering, and the bullets that had never stopped shooting, I was beginning to see why people didn't like having twins.

Just then, another bullet zing's through the car and Vitt swerves as it cuts through his shoulder. 

"Keep your fucking eyes on the road, stupid!"

"I just got shot, you gremlin!" He growled back. 

"Who are you calling a gremlin, idiot!?"

"You!" 

With a growl she swats at his shoulder and he -- with one hand on the wheel -- grabs at the nun cap and yanks, which in turn caused her to go for his ear.

"LASCIATI DEI MIEI CAPELLI!" she yells and we swerves again as she yanked on his ear harder, a litany of 'ow!' vomiting from Vitt. *_ LET GO OF MY HAIR!*_

"ANDIAMO DELLA MIA ORECCHIA! Lo dirò a mamma!" He yelled and she gives a final yank, as does he, before Vitti plops back into the backseat with a huff and crossed arms. *_ LET GO OF MY EAR! I'm gonna tell ma!*_

"Perché devi sempre dirlo a mamma !? Sii un uomo!" She yelled from the back seat. *_ Why you always gotta tell ma!? Be a man!*_

"HO CUCITO NELLA SPALLA!" He yelled back, still bleeding. "Perché non sei l'uomo che sembri, gremlin!?" *_ I got shot in the shoulder! Why don't you be the man that you look like, gremlin!?*_

"GREMLIN!? TU FIGLIO DI A--" she began to yell only for Vitt to turn the sawed off onto the girl. *_ Gremlin!? You son of a--*_

"DICE QUESTA MERAVIGLIA SUL NOSTRO MA, SO UN SOFFIO CHE SCOPA ATTRAVERSO IL TUO PICCOLO PETTO DI TIT." He warned and much to all of our surprises Vitti opens the floor board and pulls out a bazooka reading POW-DR SUGAR on the side. *_ YOU SAY THAT SHIT ABOUT OUR MA, I'LL BLOW A FUCKING HOLE THROUGH YOUR TINY TIT CHEST _.*

"Non se ne soffio uno attraverso la fronte del culo grosso, prima." She clicks the safety off and nudged it against his head. *_ Not if I blow one through your big ass forehead, first."_

"M--Maybe we shouldn't--" the bound man began only to receive a "Sta' zitto!" from both twins, along with an elbow from Vitti which busted his mouth. *_ Shut up!*_

"Ticăloasă prostie!" The man grumbled and despite the fact that they'd been seconds-ago-fighting, Vitt still whips his head around to look at the man incredulously with anger burning through his eyes. 

"What did you say about my sister, you Romanian fuck!?" 

"He called me a stupid bitch, Vitt!" 

"She is _not _stupid!" 

"What about the otha part!?"

"What otha part?"

"He called me a stupid _bitch _, Vittorio!"

"Yeah, I told him you weren't stupid."

"Oh, but I am a bitch!?" She drops the bazooka into the floorboard and the car dips and swerves, a bullet barely missing my head. 

"Vittoria, don't make me get into this with you," he shook his head. "Ma said lying will get us sent to hell; I don't want an Express ticket just so you can sleep at night, you know what you are."

And angry Ittalian yelling, with a lot of hand clapping started again. 

If I didn't stop them, we'd all die. 

"Excuse me!?" I yelled up, they're screaming still so I slam my fist on the dashboard and they grow as quiet as they can. "We are still being shot at!"

But after a brief second of staring at me, I'm ignored again. 

"Why's he so hostile still?" Vitti asked her brother, picking back up the bazooka. "It ain't kicked in yet?"

"How do I know? You're the one that put the pill in his mouth!" 

"The one that you gave me!" She countered. "What color was it?" 

"I don't know, the club was dark!"

"We were outside Vittorio!"

"It's dark outside!"

"We were under a _light!"_

"It was pretty dim, in my defense."

"_ You're _pretty dim, in no one's defense." She added an adjustment and for the first time I'd realized that the bullets zinging through and past the car had stopped. "What color?"

"Hey guys, there's noone shooting at us, anymore!"

"It was red."

"Red!" She facepalms. "Madre di Dio! Vittorio, that was ibuprofen! Not ecstasy!" *_ Mother of God!*_

"Guys -- wait, you tried to to drug me on ecstasy!?"

"Calm down, we gave you the wrong one." Vitt smiles like it's alright and very much is not alright. 

"That's not the point!" I say in time for my head to slam into the window, we've just drifted around a corner and in those seconds of screaming, and the sudden reappearance of waiting cars, Vitti fires the bazooka through the front window blowing the people and cars sky high before her brother whips the car back around and punches it. 

We're driving for around fifteen minutes, covered in blood, gun powder, bullet casings, the bound man silent as Pepino Gagliardi blared through the shot to hell speakers, smoke rising and police sirens with fire truck horns blaring in the background before pulling over beside unlit dock. 

"Marcus, stay here." And I could do nothing but nod at Vitt as Vitti slammed her door and went and drug the guy out. 

"So, Arty right? Can I call ya Arty? I'mma call ya Arty," Vitt asked as he began to rummage in the trunk before checking what sounded like a blow torch. "Who'd ya tell?" 

And he starts to spout off what sounds like Romanian and that earns him a blow torch to the cheek, which of course, he screams bloody murder at. 

"Wanna know why I love torture so much?" Vitt crouches down and cocks his head to the side with a smile. "It's because everyone screams in the same language. Name, now."

And the poor bastard only yells in Romanian some more before the blow torch burns into the other cheek. 

It goes on like this for five minutes longer, and by then his knees, chest, feet and hands are all stinking of blood and charred flesh. 

Vitt stands, sighs and lights a cigarette, his shoulder wrapped tightly in a piece of his sister's shirt, and his mask discarded in the backseat to reveal a deep cut dripping blood down his face.

"I applaud you. Honestly. Your dedication is amazing, too bad you gave loyalty to the wrong people," he put the cigarette out in the man's forehead as he passed the blow torch to Vitti. "And sadly, the only place this nun is gonna be sending you is hell." 

"Be sure to give the devil our regards." She winks and holds the torch under the soft meat of his chin. 

"Wait!" The man yells and Vitti looks over her shoulder at her brother who's face twisted into a grin that I'm pretty sure would have turned milk to cheese. "The name is Donovan Moreno, he lives on sixth and Hawthorn!"

"He speaks! And more than one word at that!" He laughs. "Vittoria, we've just broken a language barrier!" 

"Color. Me. Stoked." She crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure this is a scientific discovery, dear brother."

"And there's only one thing to do with that."

"Dissection."

The man's eyes widened and he looks between the two in horror. "B-b-b-but I told you the name! I told you name!"

"So?" 

And the man's mouth goes slack with realization. "You're monsters…" and they smile as they pull out their guns, side by side, gun to gun. "What would your mother say?"

"Good job." They say simultaneously as they fire off a head shot.

They tuck their guns into their respective holsters before weighing him down with two bricks from the trunk and heaving the man's body into the water. 

"What the fuck was 'dissection'?" Vitt asked once they were in the car. 

"What was I supposed to say?" She asks, buckling her seat belt. "Dead?"

"Yes!" 

"It doesn't flow." She shrugs her shoulders. 

"Who cares about it flowing!" He yells like a frustrated dad. "We looked like idiots! I bet he's laughing at us in the afterlife."

"I bet he's screaming," she rolled her eyes. "Cause he was a spineless dog who's fleas will be the only ones mourning him if they don't drown with him."

"It's the principal of the matter!" He goes on, taking us through backroads and shifty alleyways. "You can't say you're gonna dissect someone then shoot them in the head!" 

"I'll bring the battery acid next time, okay?" 

"That's melting, Vittoria!" He fumes before settling down into a grumble. "Next time... just pack everything."

We ride in silence -- save for Vitt's grumbling -- before Vitti sighed heavily and leaned into the front seat.

"Comprerò il gelato, se questo aiuta?" She tries. *_ I'll buy the ice cream, if that helps?*_

The car slams to a stop and he turns to her. "Veramente?" *_ Really?*_

"Pagherò anche per spruzzi extra." She smiles softly and I watch as her brother cracks a genuine smile before nodding. *I'll even pay extra for sprinkles.*

"Okay then, sorellina." He says and she leaned back, I sit dumbfoundedly as we suddenly pull up to a late night malt shop, it's neon pink lights inviting. *_ Little sister _.*

What're we doing here?" I asked, mouth parched and nerves frayed.

I was really hoping that we wouldn't blow up an ice cream shop or rob it but with these two, the possibilities were endless. 

"Just here for some ice cream." 

I paused. "Is that...Is that code for some type of Mafia hit?

"Benedici il suo cuore!" Vitti cooed. "He watches us commit one hit and suddenly we're Tony Montana." *_ Bless his heart!*_

"Relax, this is for actual ice cream," Vitt looks convincing enough but he had tried to roofie me so I couldn't trust him too much. 

"It doesn't matter, he's getting out!" And suddenly I'm yanked from the car before being dragged into the poorly lit malt shop. 

Everyone stops to stare at us and honestly, from Vitti's killer nun outfit ripped and covered in blood and dust, Vitt's bloody, glass covered body, and my overall shell-shocked appearance, I'm not surprised. 

And yet, they turn back to their meager conversations and allow us to walk past them and sit in the booth. 

"Am I missing something?" I whispered to Vitt as Vitti hopped up and went to the counter. "Are these people blind?" 

"Nah, this joint is run by a friend of the commission," he explains as he grudgingly shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt with one hand. "We're good if we don't cause no beef."

The wound looks painful and if Vitt's deep set grimace is any kind of tell, it had to hurt more than it looked. 

"Is it really bad?" I ask as I watch him stuff napkins into the entry part of the wound in his back. "Like...do you need a hospital?"

"Nah, from the entry and exit, it looks like it went through the pectoralis minor muscle," he grimaced and stuffs more tissue in before grabbing a knife and digging around for a second.

So I watch, and wait, and finally with a grunt a bullet pops into the table and he says in relief, stuffing napkins into the wound begrudgingly. 

"A little high it would've hit my arteries, a little to the right and my humerus would've been shattered," he huffed, sweat beading on his forehead. 

There's a moment of silence before, "You're surprised, yes?" And my colored cheeks are all the confirmation he needs. 

"My mother is a doctor, nothing big, but uh, it's real nice when a patient comes in and you save their life only to find out that they're a Mafia Don's son." 

"Well shit."

"She didn't take to him of course, so he had to keep getting hurt to see her," Vitti says as she walks up carrying a tray of vanilla ice cream though one was covered in so many sprinkles that you couldn't tell if there was any ice cream at all. 

"That's a lot of sprinkles," I say as she jams a spoon in slides the bowl to Vitt.

"You telling me," she snorts and delivers me a bowl exactly the same before addressing her twin. "You pass out and waste this ice cream after I've paid for extra sprinkles, I'm gonna lose it."

"I'm not gonna pass out, and you didn't finish the story," he says pointing the spoon at her defiantly. 

"Oh, yeah," she slides into the booth next to me and snorts. "One time, he got into it with some triads just to stay overnight! Pa is such a romantic!"

"Whatever, you're not seeing me take a sword to the stomach for some dame." Vitt shakes his head. "Regardless, I started reading all her old medical books when I was about...seven?"

"Six," Vitti corrects. "You were a nerd."

"Whateva," he spat, accent thickening. "So I started reading her books at six and Dad thought it was good to know for our trade so he made me keep reading em', finally drug that dope into it too."

"Don't care how to kill a man, as long as the end goal is reached," she shrugged and shovels a load of ice cream into her mouth. 

"As you can see, I have a certain level of finesse."

"Fat fuck's chance at that!" Vitti snorted loudly. "You got as much finesse as I got tits!" 

"As long as you're aware." He sniped back and in seconds they're launching ice cream with me in the center. 

Pretty sure I'd only gotten four bites before we're kicked out. 

"You mook! You got us kicked out!" Vitt yells angrily as we stumble out, ice cream decorating us with sprinkles along with the rest of our filth. 

Talk about needing a shower. 

"Yeah well…" but there's not really anything she can say so instead she smiles this blown grin. "You look like you got into a fight with a soft serve monsta and lost."

Vitt opens his mouth to retort but instead chooses to look at his reflection and I watch -- dumbfounded and hoping to find whatever they smoked to get like this -- as he dissolved into shits and giggles. 

"Fuck I do, don't I?" He smears blood and ice cream over his face and shakes his head. 

"How big was it?" I ask.

"Pretty small, but the ego--" he sucks in a breath through his teeth before makes an expanding gesture with his hands and receiving a punch from Vitti. 

"She still won."

"Cause I let it win." 

"Oh, you let me win!?" And for the hundredth time that night, angry Italian arguing started once again.

So much so, that they didn't quiet down until we got to the school doors, their bodies sagged and leaning into each other with fingers laced as we made our way through the halls though we split halfway; the twins heading to the shower and me heading to the roof. 

"And the boy wonder lives!" Is the first thing I hear as I make it to the roof. 

"Mother of FUCK!" Brio groaned as he handed Lex a stack of cash. 

"Marcus!" Billy is quick to make his way to me, looking me over automatically, hands brushing against my skin and making me suck in a breath. 

"Told yew bloke would make it." 

"Well shit," Brio groaned again and I realized what they were talking about. 

"You bet that I would die?"

"In my defense," he raised his hands. "If you go with the twins, your life is automatically endangered, so don't feel too special, I bet against everyone."

"I'm sorry, I should've went with them instead--" 

But I was tired, and I would later blame the ecstasy that wasn't in my system, so when I pulled Billy to me, when the smell of home hit me full force, when his breath hitches in just the right way, I didn't have any regrets when I put my hands on either side of his face and kissed him. 

I pulled back, brushed the blood I'd got on his face off, and promptly passed out. The last, clear thing I heard besides Billy's cry of my name was Brio.

"Lex, if he dies, the bet still counts, hand me back a twenty."


End file.
